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Draevyn opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

His stare followed her. You , he was desperate to say.

His pulse quickened at the shock of her being the first thing that came to mind.

The word was at the edge of his tongue and he swallowed it before it slipped past his lips.

Why does she always do this to me? Every time she walked away like that—so slow, so damn confident—it had become the bane of his existence. The sway of her hips was damn near hypnotic, like she had a direct line to his pulse, and she knew it. Gods, she had to know it.

The way her midnight hair fell loose, brushing her bare shoulders—looking effortlessly lethal. And that dress…clinging to her curves like it was molded to her skin. He could barely breathe as his eyes followed the dip of her waist, the long lines of her tanned legs peeking out through the slits.

Every inch of her was designed to destroy his self-control.

He shouldn’t want her, shouldn’t even be thinking about her like this. But here she was, walking towards his bed, like it was all a game to her—knowing damn well she was winning.

His hands clenched at his sides. She’s going to be the death of me .

“What I want is to survive this mess we’ve found ourselves in. The rest we can figure out later,” he finally answered.

Esmyra's gaze fixed on him, as if trying to decipher his words. “Aye. ”

Draevyn let out a frustrated breath, raking a hand through his hair. “We need to start this over with honesty. If we’re going to find our way out of here and help each other, we can’t have any more lies and secrets between us, Esmyra.”

Her eyes softened, but only for a moment before the hardened edge returned. “Then maybe stop looking at me like I’m your enemy.”

Enemy . He had to choke back his laugh—this certainly wasn’t how he looked at enemies.

“Then perhaps you should stop acting like one,” he challenged. “I’ve spent every second since we got here trying to figure out whether you’re going to turn on me the second it benefits you.”

Her jaw ticked. “Silly me for thinking that bargaining for your release from the dungeons didn’t already prove that I have no intention of leaving you to die.”

Draevyn stared at her for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like sparking embers.

He could see the storm of emotion in her eyes—frustration, fear, something deeper she wasn’t ready to show.

He didn’t trust her, not fully, but he understood that she had even more shocking truths revealed to her in the last day than he had.

“Do you believe all that Syrena said? About your relation to her and this place?” he asked.

Her expression told him that she was rummaging through her brain for an answer, and he wondered if she would feel compelled to lie.

“To be determined,” she eventually said. “I’m hoping to learn more tomorrow.”

Draevyn let out a huff. “Look, we’re both in this deeper than we want to be. But if we’re going to survive this, we have to stop treating each other like enemies and start to actually work together. Like true allies.”

Her eyes locked onto his, searching for something—maybe truth, maybe some sign that she could lower her guard. But then she squared her shoulders, her hard expression slipping back into place. “Tell me one thing before we make this truce, Draevyn. ”

He took note of her not including his last name, like she typically did when she was mocking him or trying to get under his skin.

“I need to know the true feelings you have for your father.”

He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I believe you already know your answer.”

Esmyra took a few steps toward him, until the top of her head was mere inches below his chin. “Aye, but it must be spoken aloud.”

Draevyn cleared his throat as he gazed into her sharp, glacial eyes, his mind a whirling mess.

He’d never spoken the absolute truth of it before—not even to Atlas, though he knew his brother was aware, along with his crew.

But with her, for some reason, speaking the words was almost the easiest decision he ever had to make.

This was likely because he knew with every fiber of his being she felt the same way.

“King Rowe is a tyrant, and father or not, Lephyrin and all of Rymelle would be better off without him atop a throne,” he admitted. Even though it was considered treason, there was something freeing in the words, as if they unlocked the gilded cage of his princely title.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she whispered, and his eyes flared.

They stood there for a beat longer, staring each other down, neither willing to fully surrender to the uneasy truce between them. However, something in the air had shifted.

Finally, she turned toward the door, her hair swaying behind her. “Next time, lock your door,” she teased over her shoulder.

Draevyn put his hands in his pockets as he watched her walk away. “Forgive me for believing locks are unnecessary when there was a guard at the door when I came to bed.”

Esmyra pulled the door open and turned to face him, the dim merlights in the hall filtering in and casting her in a subtle glow. “Do forgive them for their inability to perform their duties, Draevyn Rowe… They got caught in a song.” She winked. “Goodnight.”

Draevyn’s eyes fell to the floor—to the two bodies of the guards that were now unconscious on the ground at her feet.

As the door clicked shut behind her, he stood in the middle of the room, heart still racing in his chest. Yet, he couldn’t help the smirk that twitched on the edge of his lips as he stared after her.

“Goodnight, Wildfire,” he whispered.